


A Friend in Need, Turned Lover Indeed

by SoloShikigami



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Cute, M/M, Shower Sex, Underfell Papyrus, Underswap Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloShikigami/pseuds/SoloShikigami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sans’ bike breaks down and he is nowhere near his city home, an unlikely ally rides by to offer a helping hand… in more ways than one.<br/>Birthday gift fic for my friend using her Biker-tale AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend in Need, Turned Lover Indeed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BattrelaRage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattrelaRage/gifts).



                “Stupid Papyrus,” Sans grumbled as he pushed his sporty blue bike along the road. “The one time I break down he’s nursing one of his honey hangovers. Go figure.”

                “ _Mead,_ ” he could hear his brother defending himself, which made the small skeleton chuckle.

                Sans knew it was partly his own fault; his older brother had warned him more than a few times to not go out alone and to not leave the city limits, but in the same turn, Sans had warned his brother about overindulging in his favorite beverage.

                It was a clear, bright day without a cloud in the sky. It was a little too warm for that time of year, and it didn’t take long for Sans to feel the pressure of the heat. He considered finding a shady spot to rest until the sun went down a little and the heat eased off, but there were no trees to be seen; in fact, this side of the city outskirts seemed to be nothing but empty fields and farms and hills. He also considered taking one of the paths in hopes it would lead to a house and someone he could call for help, but he couldn’t chance walking into unknown territory like that. At least he was on a paved road and even though he had yet to see anyone, there was a chance someone would happen by.

                “Man, I bet there’s not a mechanic for miles,” Sans muttered.

                His mind wandered as he walked, trying to ignore the drips of sweat trailing slowly down his spine, making him itch. He gripped the handlebars of his bike tightly as he grew worried about whether or not he would ever make it back. Suddenly, his ears perked up when he heard a familiar sound from down the road. He turned his head and in the distance he could see a fellow motorcycle rider. Judging by the volume of the engine, it had to be a Harley Davidson; the deep rumble of a Harley’s engine was a pleasant sound to Sans. It became even more pleasant when he realized it was still heading down the road in his direction.

                Sans breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the rider was familiar enough with the area to point him in the right direction.

                But as the bike drew nearer, Sans’ soul began to sink a little when he found that he recognized the bike, and even better (or worse), he recognized its rider. Granted, it was difficult to not recognize a skeleton, even from far away.

                If the tall, slender, dark frame didn’t clue anyone in to who he was, his bike was easily one of the most recognizable in the city, if not the entire state. The old school Harley Davidson cycle was red and black, the gang’s symbols emblazoned on the sides, custom-made spikes jutted from the wheels, and one would be surprised that fire didn’t blaze from the tailpipes.

                Papyrus, called Boss by most (including his own brother), pulled up alongside Sans and the smaller skeleton couldn’t help jumping back a bit.

                “Relax, Runt, I wasn’t going to hit you,” Papyrus said in an exasperated tone as he took off his helmet to get a better look at Sans. “What the hell are you doing all the way out here, and all by yourself?”

                Sans sighed and glanced at his bike. “I dunno, something funny with the engine. I had messed with it back at the house and was taking it for a test run when it died on me. Now I’m just trying to get it to a mechanic.”

                “You ought to get yourself a real hog and stop tinkering with these little toys,” Papyrus grumbled as he set his helmet down and got off of his bike.

                “Hey! I worked really hard on mine and I’m proud of it!” Sans puffed out his chest a little at the declaration.

                Papyrus raised an eye-ridge as he looked at Sans and then at the blue and gray motorcycle that had winged decals. He rolled his eyes a little and bent over the sports bike as Sans’ defensive expression melted into one of concern.

                “Well, it’s a little hard to see exactly what’s going on here, and even if I could, I don’t have the tools with me to help you fix it,” Papyrus stood and looked to the sky; the sun was going to set in a couple of hours. “Come on, my place isn’t far. I have a garage with everything we’ll need.”

                “We?”

                Papyrus turned to walk back to his bike.

                “W-wait!” Sans shouted, certain that Papyrus was going to just ride off. “So I’m to follow you on foot or something?”

                Papyrus glanced over his shoulder, chuckling at Sans. “Don’t be an idiot, I’m walking with you. Now move it, Runt.”

                He kicked up the stand and started to walk. Sans quickly jogged to catch up.

                “Hey, uhm, thanks, Boss, I appreciate your help,” Sans said quietly.

                Papyrus rolled his shoulders a bit uncomfortably. “I still owe you for that shit that went down last month.”

                Sans nodded a little; Papyrus and his brother’s gang, the Gaster Blasters, were fingered for a crime they didn’t commit and Papyrus nearly got arrested. If it wasn’t for Sans’ quick thinking, Papyrus wouldn’t be there to help him now.

                “Still, thank you all the same,” Sans murmured. “How far is it?”

                “Not too far,” Papyrus murmured. “A mile. Think you can handle that, Runt?”

                Sans sighed. “Yeah, I can handle it, and don’t call me Runt.”

                “Make me stop.”

                Sans scowled. “Why do you have to be like that?”

                “Why do you have to be a whiny little brat?”

                “I’m not,” Sans grumbled, then sighed and gave up the argument. “Wish we could turn on the radio or something.”

                Papyrus scoffed. “What? So you can listen to Sons of Anarchy or some shit?”

                “Yeah right, I’m not into that violent garbage,” Sans then paused, the tone in Papyrus’ voice clued him into something. “It sounds like you don’t care for them either?”

                “Those fucking posers? No fucking way.”

                “Really?”

                “Really.”

                Sans couldn’t help grinning. “Hey, so we do have something in common.”

                “I’m sure that’s the only thing.”

                Determined to find out all about the gang leader, Sans pressed on. They didn’t really share to much of the same interest in music; Sans was more rock and roll (and pop music, though he wouldn’t dare bring Taylor Swift into a conversation like this), and Papyrus was a metal fan, though picky, and Sans got hints that he also preferred classical, but he wasn’t going to press on that too much.

                “Man, what I wouldn’t give for an air-conditioned room, a bowl of popcorn, and a CSI marathon,” Sans murmured.

                “Add some peanut butter to that popcorn and I’m sold,” Papyrus said.

                Sans almost stopped. “You put peanut butter on your popcorn too?”

                “How else does one eat popcorn?” Papyrus said smugly.

                “My bro puts honey on his,” Sans made a face. “He’s so gross.”

                “Mine drowns everything in mustard. It’s fucking disgusting. I’d like to add give me CSI Miami; I hate the other ones.”

                “I’m not too picky on that end.”

                They continued to talk about CSI and the spin-offs when Sans noticed their path turned into a driveway. At the end of the driveway was a fair sized house with a two-door garage. It didn’t look to be anything too spectacular, just a humble farmhouse in the middle of a large field.

                “Huh, I kind of expected something… different,” Sans murmured.

                “What _did_ you expect?”

                “Not this, not for the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the city.”

                Papyrus shrugged. “It pays to keep a low profile.”

                “I guess so.”

                “Come on; got stuff in the garage.”

                They approached the two-door garage. Papyrus leaned over to his keys still hanging in the ignition and pressed a button on his keychain. One of the doors opened and Sans’ mouth nearly fell open as Papyrus waved him inside.

                The garage was definitely a _lot_ bigger inside. Papyrus brought his bike to one side, where there was another motorcycle and an empty spot – Sans guessed it was where Papyrus’ brother’s bike went. There were two cars parked in the garage as well; one was maroon and silver and looked like it came from the 1950’s (Sans wasn’t too sure, but figured it was either a Dodge or a Cadillac), and it was clear that it hadn’t been driven in a very long time, as there was a very distinct layer of dust on it. It made Sans shudder a little. The other car was covered by a sheet, but something about its size and shape told Sans that it was also a very expensive car.

                “You didn’t steal those, did you?” Sans asked quietly.

                Papyrus grumbled. “I know we don’t always do things the way you pansies would, but I’m not a car thief. Cars are very high profile.”

                “Sorry,” Sans murmured.

                “Whatever. Come on, let’s get your little toy fixed.”

                It ended up being a mess – Sans still wasn’t completely sure of what went wrong, but fixing it meant a bunch of new wires, a few new hoses, a new oil filter, and a lot of sweat.

                “Jeez Louise,” Sans murmured, brushing the back of his gloved hand across his forehead. “Think we’re about done?”

                “Yeah, that should do it,” Papyrus said. He was crouched by the engine and he fell back onto his bottom and scooted back about a foot and rested his arms on his knees. “All right, give it a shot.”

                Sans slipped the key into the ignition and squeezed his eyes shut as he turned it, expecting the same horrendous noises the bike made the last few times he tried to start it. But instead, the engine turned over, whining a little, and then chugged like it should.

                “It works!” Sans exclaimed excitedly.

                “Nyeh heh heh, of course it does,” Papyrus chuckled, brushing off his hands. “Go on, take it down the driveway and back.”

                Sans hopped onto his bike, excitement nearly turning his wide pupils to stars as he sped out of the garage with a whoop and a holler. Papyrus shook his head as he got to his feet, moving to the door of the garage and watching the blue bundle of energy speed down his driveway, disappearing for a moment in the twilight, but then the high-pitched whine of the sports bike grew louder again as he returned. He parked his bike in the empty spot and hopped off.

                “That was awesome!” Sans exclaimed. “Boss! Thank you so much!”

                He bounded towards the tall skeleton, who was unprepared, and Sans tackled him with a hug.

                “Get off me,” Papyrus grumbled, his face turning red.

                But then his face turned even redder when a set of teeth clacked against his own.

                Sans pulled back with a start, realizing what he has just done.

                “Oh, uhm, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his own face glowing with a pale blue blush.

                Papyrus just stared up at him for a moment, reading his face, and then pushed on Sans’ shoulders in a surprisingly gentle way.

                “Let’s get cleaned up. If you got all that oil and grime on you, I can’t begin to imagine what I look like,” Papyrus murmured.

                Sans scrambled off of the other skeleton and stood to the side, rubbing his arm nervously and unable to look at him.

                "Nah, it's okay, I'll just head home," Sans said.

                "Not at this time of night," Papyrus replied sternly as he stood and moved to put the tools away. "I've even ordered my lazy-ass brother to stay with Grillby for the night; people drive too fucking crazy, especially down this road, and some of them are drunk, and I refuse to have any of my crew killed because they couldn't sit tight for one night."

                Blue blinked. "And you're treating me like one of your crew because...?"

                "Feh, if anything happened to you, your brother would have my head the second he finds out I could have done something to stop you. While under normal circumstances I would whip him in a fight, where you are concerned? I can promise you that it would be a fight to the death and I'm not a murderer or a fan of being killed."

                "My brother wouldn't get that violent, even over me," Sans said, finding he had to almost jog to keep up with the long-legged Papyrus as he lead Sans through his house and up the stairs to the bathroom.

                "Yes, he would," they reached the bathroom and Papyrus started rummaging around the cabinets for towels. "Look, Runt, he made me promise to never tell you this, but remember the night of that huge bar brawl?"

                Sans shuddered a little; he has just formed his club, The Golden Flowers, and it seemed another gang took exception to their choice of name and dress. Petty insults gave way to nastier insults to blows being exchanged and Sans had caught the end of someone's hook punch. He remembered stumbling against the wall and then his brother hovering over him, holding a bag of ice to his jaw.

                "Well, I don't know if you noticed, but that guy who hit you? That half-horse half-eel monster? I haven't seen him since your brother took him out back and beat him within an inch of his life."

                Sans stared at him, stunned. His lazy brother, who wouldn't even lift a phalange to pick up a sock, beat someone within an inch of their life? The only thing that snapped Sans out of his thought was the running of the shower and realizing that Papyrus was undressing.

                "Oh! Sorry! Let me go outside and wait," Sans stammered.

                "Runt, it's expensive to heat up water and it takes time as well. It'll be better if we just shower together," Papyrus said, pulling his shirt over his head. He looked up to see Sans watching him and blushing. Papyrus smirked and slowly undid his pants before shoving them down his long legs. "Unless, of course, you're scared or something?"

                Sans scowled. "I am not scared of a stupid shower!"

                Papyrus stepped out of his pants, turning around before picking them up off the floor and tossing the dirty clothing in the hamper. When he turned back to Sans, he was slowly taking off his shirt, apparently not wanting to miss a moment of what Papyrus was doing completely in the buff.

                "Maybe," Papyrus purred, moving towards Sans while he yanked his shirt over his head. When he looked up he swallowed at Papyrus bending over him, "you're just scared of me?"

                Sans continued to stare, at a loss for words as Papyrus slowly traced a sharp fingertip over a brow and down the side of his face. He was pleased when Sans shivered.

                "N-no," Sans said with a small stutter. "I, I'm not scared of you."

                "Then what're you waiting for?"

                Papyrus let his fingertip linger under Sans' chin for a moment before turning and getting into the shower. Sans blinked, shook his head, and finished removing the rest of his clothes with shaking hands before joining Papyrus in the shower.

                Sans could only feel a few drops from the shower, as Papyrus was standing between him and the spray, already cleaning himself. He couldn’t help taking this moment to study Papyrus’ body; long, lean bones, sharp angles in his pelvis, pointed teeth that Sans found himself wanting to know exactly how sharp they were…

                “Wake up, Runt.”

                Sans shook his head and let out a small gasp as warm water sprayed in his face. Papyrus had pulled him under the showerhead suddenly and Sans felt hyper-aware how close to his back the other was standing. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to focus on the feeling of the water washing away the dirt, grime, and sweat from his adventures. He opened his eyes again when he felt something being pressed into his ribs.

                “Here,” Papyrus’ breath was at the side of his skull.

                Sans looked down and found a soapy washcloth.

                “Thanks,” Sans said, taking it with a nod and starting to scrub his arm.

                “And I’ll get your back.”

                Sans froze when slippery hands ran down his spine and shuddered when they came back up. The same hands rubbed over his shoulders and down his arms before they began caressing across his ribs. Without even thinking, Sans let out a low moan and leaned back into Papyrus’ arms.

                “Heh, and I thought you weren’t the lazy one,” Papyrus murmured. “I guess I better clean you myself.”

                “’m not lazy,” Sans said, trying to move away in embarrassment, but those long, slender arms wrapped around him.

                “No, no, but you must be tired. You were walking for quite a while before I found you.”

                A hand moved up to cup Sans’ jaw, holding him still as Papyrus licked a long line from his jaw to where his ear would be.

                “I’ll take good care of you,” Papyrus whispered.

                “O-okay,” Sans murmured with a nod.

                “Good boy.”

                Sans shuddered again and those long, lovely fingers took the washcloth from his hands. Papyrus still kept his front pressed close to Sans’ back as he grabbed the bar of soap and made the washcloth soapy again. He gently washed each of Sans’s ribs, crouching down to wipe it along his pelvis (and he could tell Sans was trying really hard to not make too needy of sounds as he touched across his sensitive area), down his legs and back up again. He pulled Sans out of the spray for a moment and turned him around to wash some of the oil from his face, carefully cleaning around his eye sockets and over the crown of his skull and down around his jaw. He pushed him a little to get him under the spray again, and watched with satisfaction as the soap bubbles and dirt rinsed away, leaving the smooth, pure, white bones behind.

                “Mmm, you are quite lovely, do you know that?” Papyrus murmured, joining Sans under the spray.

                “No, I’m not,” Sans denied.

                “No need to be so modest,” Papyrus wrapped an arm around him again, using his other hand to lift Sans’ chin as he leaned down, their mouths barely brushing one another. “Now, I know I just got you clean, but I want to make you dirty again.”

Sans stared into his eyes for what felt like forever. Did Papyrus, aka Boss, leader of The Gaster Blasters, really want him?

                When he bent and set his teeth gently on Sans's neck, the thrill that ran through his body gave him his answer.

                "Yes," Sans whispered, leaning his head to expose more of his neck.

                Papyrus bit down harder, Sans cried out and gripped him hard, but the wail turned into a moan as the water and Papyrus’ lapping tongue soothed the bite mark.

                “Those are sharper than they look,” Sans managed to mumble.

                “Or maybe you’re just too much of a pussy,” Papyrus murmured.

                Sans scowled and pushed at Papyrus. “Don’t be a jerk, Boss, and don’t use words like that!”

                Papyrus chuckled, turning to push Sans against the side wall, pinning the smaller skeleton with his body. Sans whimpered as Papyrus ground his body against him.

                “Words like what?” Papyrus teased, his hands wandering down to Sans’ hip.

                “Th-that one you used before, the ‘P’ word,” Sans said, wriggling against Papyrus.

                “Hmm, I know a lot of words that begin with the letter ‘P,’ Runt.”

                Papyrus dragged his tongue up Sans’ neck, drawing a loud whine of need out.

                “M-my name is S-Sans!”

                “All right then, Sans, tell me what word I shouldn’t say.’

                “Puh, puh,” Sans stuttered. “N-no! I won’t say it!”

                Papyrus chuckled. “All right, you won’t say the word, maybe I can make you manifest one instead.”

                He dragged his hand down the center of Sans’ pelvis, magic starting to gather for both of them. Sans gasped, unsure if he was trying to get away or press in closer, but there was a stubborn streak in him that wasn’t willing to give Papyrus what he wanted. Something that felt a little fleshier started forming around Sans’ hipbones and thighs, a moment later he felt soft cushion between the back of his pelvis and the wall of the shower. Sans could feel Papyrus’ magic as well, something warm and soft was starting to press against his thigh.

                “Oh, ho, what do we have here?” Papyrus purred with a small chuckle. “Mmm, either I am underestimating you or not trying hard enough. You make a nice cock there, Sans.”

                Sans groaned as Papyrus’ hand gripped him. “Boss… Don’t… Say…”

                Papyrus licked up his neck again, over the hinge of his jaw and stopped by his ear and whispered. “Cock? Heh, I’ll say it all want, Sans, but for now, I’m going to suck your cock until you beg me to fuck you.”

                “Won’t say it.”

                “Sure.”

                Sans barely knew what hit him when something hot suddenly wrapped around his magical appendage and he hit his head on the shower wall with a wail. Then it squeezed him as long fingertips gripped his thighs.

                “Gah! B-Boss! Oh, stars,” Sans moaned.

                Papyrus grazed his teeth over Sans’ dick, using his tongue to stroke and squeeze him. He reached behind and squeezed Sans’ ass. He hummed in satisfaction at the sounds coming from Sans, which drew out even more delicious whines and cries. Sans’ hands gripped onto Papyrus’ shoulders.

                “Please, please Boss,” Sans groaned.

                “What do you want, Sans?” Papyrus murmured against the shaft of Sans’ cock. “I can either keep sucking your dick, or I can bend you over and fuck you.”

                “Boss, please, I want- I need you.”

                “Ah, ah, be more specific for me, Sans.”

                Sans’ eyes were squeezed shut and he shook his head. He went to try to move away, but Papyrus held him still. One hand reached underneath him, seeking out his entrance. Once he found it, he slipped a finger inside, making Sans scream.

                “Aaah!” Sans moaned.

                Papyrus returned to his task, moving his finger in and out of Sans as he licked his shaft, swirling around the head of his cock, teasing the slit.

                “I, I can’t take anymore,” Sans whined.

                “Then tell,” Papyrus squeezed his cock. “Me what-“ he shoved a second finger inside of him, “you want, Sans.”

                It was all too much; the steam and heat from the shower was making his mind hazy, the tongue on his cock was sending wave after wave of jolts through his body while the fingers stretching him and reaching so deep inside touched something in his core that begged for more attention.

                “Stars, oh stars, please…”

                “Just say it.”

                “Please f… F… fuck me…”

                Papyrus paused, his fingers deep inside of Sans. “Couldn’t hear that.”

                Sans gasped and wriggled. “Boss, please fuck me already! I can’t take it anymore!”

                Papyrus chuckled, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion as he moved up to trap Sans in a deep kiss.

                “As you wish.”

                Sans found himself being spun around again, his hands being moved up the anchor him against the wall, bent over enough for Papyrus to press his hips against him. He bent over and dropped a few kisses on the back of Sans’ neck.

                “Hold on, Sans,” Papyrus murmured into his ear.

                The answering whimper and the press back against him gave Papyrus all the answer he needed.

                Papyrus gripped his own cock, pumping it a few times before lining up with Sans’ entrance and began to push inside at a slow but steady pace. Sans cried out, feeling a flash of pain before pleasure over-rode it like a tsunami as Papyrus’ dick brushed against his walls. When Papyrus was hilted, he let out a long, pleased sigh.

                “Mmm, damn, you feel really good, Sans,” Papyrus said.

                “Ah, yeah, you’re so, thick,” Sans gasped out.

                Papyrus chuckled and rubbed down Sans’s spine. “You’re adjust.”

                He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in to draw another gasp from Sans. It didn’t take long before he was driving into the smaller skeleton at a quick pace. Papyrus groaned wrapping an arm around Sans’ chest and pulling him upright. Sans cried out at the change of angle.

                “Mmm, I’m getting close, Sans,” Papyrus murmured in his ear.

                “Hah, hah, uh huh,” Sans could barely gasp out.

                “Guess you’re pretty close, too?”

                “Yes.”

                “Good,” Papyrus nibbled on Sans’ neck before dropping his voice. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

                “Boss, Boss plea-”

                “No, my name Sans.”

                Papyrus began to move faster, driving in harder. Sans tried to lift a leg to get Papyrus in deeper, quickly reaching his peak as Papyrus’ hand gripped his throat lightly.

                “Ahhhh! Papyrus!” Sans cried out, his body shaking as cum streamed from his cock, spraying against the wall.

                “Fuck, Sans,” Papyrus groaned, thrusting once more before unloading a stream inside of Sans.

                The two were still for a moment, the cooling water spraying their bodies as they caught their breaths and their magic dissipated. Papyrus smirked, holding up the trembling skeleton and pressing another kiss to the side of his head.

                “Come on, the water is going to get cold,” he murmured in his ear after a few moments.

                “All right,” Sans said with a shudder.

                They finished showering and toweled off. Papyrus considered trying to find something for Sans to wear in his brother’s room, but something inside of him made him snarl at the idea that he would smell like his brother. Instead, he pulled out a black shirt that said “Bone to Be Wild” on the front and gave him a pair of his smaller boxers.

                “It’s a little big,” Sans murmured sheepishly.

                Papyrus stood back and admired the view. “You look rather adorable.”

                Sans blushed blue and looked away. “Thanks, Boss.”

                “Come on, I’m hungry,” Papyrus said, beckoning Sans into the kitchen.

                After they had dinner (all that there was to be had was spaghetti that was quite heavily on the garlic), they settled in the living room on the large, plush couch with a bowl of popcorn and a smaller bowl of peanut butter to dip it in.

                “Bones is on,” Papyrus pointed out.

                “If that was a pun-”

                “No, dummy, the show.”

                “I was kidding! Sounds good to me,” Sans said with a wide grin.

                Papyrus turned to the right channel, set the remote to the side, then looked over to Sans and beckoned him to come closer. Sans obeyed and scooted over, Papyrus put an arm around him and pulled him closer. After a little bit of squirming, Sans found a comfortable position and the two munched on their snack as they watched the show.

                “Never saw you as the cuddling type,” Sans said in a teasing tone during the first commercial.

                “Never saw you as the type to go for someone like me,” Papyrus said with a smirk, leaning down to nuzzle the side of the other’s skull. “Nor do you seem to be the type to do something as lewd as doing it in the shower.”

                Sans shuddered at the low voice and the memory of what they did, still feeling tingling all around his pelvis. His brushed a hand down Papyrus’ thigh.

                “Maybe I’m more of a traditionalist,” Sans said softly.

                Papyrus discreetly set the two bowls aside before gripping Sans, pulling and twisting him so he was pinned to the couch. He let out a squeak of surprise and Papyrus chuckled darkly.

                _He really is just fucking adorable,_ Papyrus thought.

                He bent down and licked at Sans’ teeth. “You trying to say you’re up for round two?”

                Sans wrapped his arms around Papyrus’ neck.

                “Absolutely.”


End file.
